He really does exist!
by Matthicus
Summary: It only happened once, but you never stopped believing, no matter what. And now, you actually get to meet him. A BunnyxReader fic. Officially will continue... I just have to write the second chapter. (I need feedback on this one, as it is my first attempt at something like this, so if you read, share your experience) Rating upped, cuz I wanted to up it. Now rated 'T' - for IDK what


_~ He really does exist! ~_

I had seen him that one fateful Easter. It had really been him, or at least that's what I swore to myself. But it was undeniable, that flash of grey, the vague resemblance to the species the spirit represented. He was fast, but large and I had seen him before and after he raced away. I had seen him take out and place an egg under a nearby bush, quick as a rabbit, and I saw him stare at me, his intense green eyes locking onto me for a split second, but when my light blues had made contact, he vanished. Mystified, I had wandered over to the egg, noting it's colorful design, the flawless swirling of color on it's cool shell. Then after some serious five-year-old-contemplation, I realized what I had witnessed, and I was giddy. I had just seen the Easter Bunny, and he had left an egg just for me. Later that afternoon I discovered I had been the only child to have gotten an egg form the large lapine. "I don't recognize that one sweety, where did you find it?" my mother had said. "The Easter Bunny put it under a bush for me, I saw him!" I shouted up at her, excited to recount my experience. She only laughed and took me inside, and I laughed with her, not realizing that she was only laughing because she didn't believe me.

Ever since then, I have believed. Always. And to show it, I would faithfully try and do something to catch his attentions, but it hardly ever turned out the way I intended. For my first try, the year after I had seen him, I had left an egg, sloppily painted, out on the porch the night of Easter's eve, and the next day it had been replaced, and my young eyes, the only eyes that were actually open that early in the morning, took in a completely different piece of work. The next year I had left chocolates, but they were ignored, sadly. I didn't understand why they had been left alone. On my third attempt, I tried leaving out art supplies for him to mess with. He had to run out of his own supplies sometime, right? But those were left alone too, mostly. But underneath the neatly opened, and resealed, box of markers had been a picture, a finely drawn, colored, and shaded depiction of me leaving out the box of chocolates last year. He had remembered that? Even more surprising was that it had been a perfect likeness. It kind of stunk that I always got nice gifts from him and never could manage to give anything back. But I enjoyed our game, and evidently, so did he.

My life continued that way, for several long years, my want to meet the elusive figure slowly turning into a need. It was my life's goal to see him again. So I kept trying, my egg painting got better, I learned to make my own chocolates, and as an artist, I would leftover supplies to share. I eventually started leaving out a combinations of these things as my gift. It was the only way I could actually interact with my childhood hero. And one day. He left me a gift that made me stop wanting to give.

_~ Present day - Easter Sunday in April ~_

I awoke to my loud alarm, and I quickly slapped a hand to my nightstand to shut it off. It was finally Easter of my senior year. I was graduating soon, and my family was happy, but they knew me well enough to leave that alone. I didn't want to grow up and they blamed it on my holiday habits. They always told me to leave the stories behind. But my mother understood, or so she said, and took my belief in stride, telling her friends it was my way to cope with growing up; only saying so when she _thought_ I hadn't been listening. But I wouldn't have any sour thoughts today. I had woken up early for a reason and did not intend to start my early day with a bad attitude.

I pushed my legs out of my covers, my feet colliding with the cold ground below. Instantly I shivered and quickly stuffed my freezing toes into the warm recesses of my house slippers.

"I hate hardwood floors… I wanted carpet so that I could be warm in the morning, but no~. 'We don't have money for carpet'" I mimicked. My dad was a pain sometimes. I knew he was lying to. We were well off, but he just liked bare floors and didn't want _any_ of the rooms in _his_ house to be to his disliking. Regardless of who actually inhabited the room. "He won't change it even though he knows I start sneezing when I get cold…" and to prove myself right, I let out a loud sneeze. On accident of course, but I had known it was coming.

Shuffling, as quietly as a freezing teen wearing slippers could, I made my way to my closet, shirking my nightshirt and grabbing a fresh one from a hanger. Looking at the shirt I grabbed, a solid white-t, I decided to wear a pair of dark denim pants to go with it. I would look decent enough and my slim frame would look good in a moderately t-shirt/ loose pants ensemble. Not that I really cared whether or not people looked at me. It was… just in case. I laughed to myself quietly as I slipped on the snug shirt and slipped out of my pajama bottoms and slippers, so that I could put on the pair of jeans I had decided would be part of my attire today.

I made my way out of my room, sticking my head out of the doorway cautiously, I had to make sure my younger sibling wasn't running around in the hallways. To my utter shock, he wasn't, but then I facepalmed and realized I had woken up at five in the morning, little Shaun wouldn't be awake right now, no matter how much energy he had while awake.

I crossed the hall and closed my self in the bathroom, ready to prepare myself for the day. I would forego showering due to the excess noise it would make if I used it; I would shower when everyone was up - After I thoroughly fooled them into thinking I awoke after them. Seriously. How many years in a row can you fake a bleary "Good morning" and a yawn, and still get away with it, when in reality you never even wake until your alarm goes off. Which your parents _know_ you don't use on weekends. They should know that based on the other fifty-one weekends, I only wake up at noon. They should seriously be suspicious. But if they weren't going to be, I wasn't going to complain about it.

At the moment though, I was looking at myself in the mirror and decided that my hair needed brushing. Yeah, most people I knew may not have brushed, girls and guys alike, but I did. My hair was freakishly long and I hated it short, I could tolerate brushing so that it wouldn't always resemble a rats nest in the morning. So I picked up my brush and ran it through my annoyingly long hair, pulling through any tangles with only a slight wince. After that fiasco, I looked closely at the mirror, noting how my hair shone in the light and I inwardly groaned. I really was trying too hard, but on the inside I was very pleased with how I looked.

I left the bathroom quickly, leaving the door open, as per usual, and I made my way to the stairs. I deftly made my way down them silently counting to myself so that I could avoid unlucky step number thirteen. The one I dubbed " ". Once on the ground floor, I strode directly to the front door, ready to step outside into the clean and crisp air of April to greet my annual surprise.

Last night I had left out a sketchbook, a pencil or two, an eraser, a pencil sharpener, a very colorful painted egg, and one box of chocolates I had made myself. But I had stopped laying them out on the porch when Shaun had been born. The first time he had been allowed outside on an Easter morning(when I drastically hadn't woken up yet), he had broken my egg gift, ate the chocolates that were never messed with. But most importantly, the paintbrush I had left out that year, along with a set of watercolors and small canvas, had been put to use by the little 6 year old, whatever painting had been left for me being utterly ruined. I had been furious and had vowed to never let it happen again and had gone through some desperate measures to keep that promise.

I took my time, allowing the not too fond memory of why I resorted to hiding my treats to fill my head as I sauntered down the porch steps and dropped to the ground the moment my bare foot touched the concrete sidewalk. I turned on the balls of my feet and crouched to investigate the bottom step of the porch, finding the loose board that acted as the 'doorway'(the plank I speak of was standing vertical and was part of the border to the bottom step), that kept everything out from under the house. I had loosened this board a while back, and when I removed it this year I was almost disappointed. There weren't any eggs, mine or otherwise. All I saw were the chocolates and that the sketchbook was not in the packing I had bought it in, while the pencils, both of them, were small stubs and very dull. The eraser and sharpener had disappeared.

I reached in, scooping up the pencils and sketch pad. I opened the book, curious to see what he had left me this year. I was delighted to find the usual picture of me, my portrayal once again spot on and, like usual, I was doing something in the picture. This time I was depicted in a way that said he had obviously caught me making the chocolates last night. I was smiling softly to myself as I mixed ingredients. I remembered that moment clearly and was sad I hadn't looked up and seen him. But I laughed it off. Even if I had looked up at that precise moment, I wouldn't have seen him.

Turning the page, I was surprised to find that the second page was filled as well, but what occupied the page was something so familiar, yet I could swear I had never seen it before. But, instantly I knew what, no, _who_, it was that was being shown to me.

The picture was of a large rabbit, with bright eyes, a grin I could tell was trademark, completed with a slight overbite and very large ears. His face and eyes matched my memory perfectly. But I looked over the rest of the bust, noting the shapes of his shoulders, neck, and what little I could see of his arms. In the picture, his ears were erect and matched the smiling expression on his face in a way I was sure could only be replicated by the real Easter Bunny. Though, I noticed something different from when I had last seen him at the young age of five. He had strange markings, one on the shoulder I could see and another adorned his head like a crown. They seemed aboriginal. Australian maybe. I honestly didn't remember ever seeing those.

But then, the strangest thing happened. As I sat there looking over the picture of my idolized hero, I fell… into a hole in the ground I was sure was not there moments there before. It was truthfully surprising experience. I even surprised myself by not screaming, it was actually fun! It was disorienting that I kept falling, more or less sliding now, but the speed was exhilarating and I wasn't even bother by the abrupt ending to the ride, where I was tossed unceremoniously into a small rolling heap.

I also wasn't worried that I was no longer in a familiar environment, heck I had probably just fallen down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. I had no room to worry, I was more ecstatic than anything.

Though in hindsight, I was only half right. I was in a wonderland alright, but there was no cheshire cat. I stood, brushing off the knees and shins of my pants, removing any loose grass clippings that had attached themselves to me after my roll on the ground. I relished in the soft feeling of the grass beneath my bare feet, and the warm rays of the… sun… hitting my face, while I was supposedly… underground.

"I was wondering when you would find my little gift." said an accented husky voice(that oddly reminded me of Hugh Jackman) from behind me. I spun on the spot, taking in the sight of the speaker. The person I faced, or rather, large anthropomorphic rabbit, I had sworn existed since I was small, was standing there in the flesh. He was actually real.

_~ End ~_

**A/N: So what do you guys think for a short one-shot, I think I did pretty good! Anyway Tell me what you think.**


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